Observation
by Monker
Summary: Short Natalie drabble. Natalie observes Monk while he cleans and it gets her mind going. Oneshot


This is just a little bit of Natalie drabble that came to mind while I was cleaning so I decided to put it into a one shot for you guys. I would love to know what you think of it.

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It was a clear Monday morning. Monday mornings, at Mr. Monk's house, were also known as cleaning-day. Normally I try by best to avoid being at his house on such days because I know how crazy the man gets when he's cleaning. But this day I had no excuse for not coming. My daughter was being car-pulled by another neighborhood mom so I didn't have to take her to school, I had done all of my grocery shopping yesterday afternoon so I had no errands to run. Everything I needed to do I had already done, and in doing so…I had destroyed any alibis that I might have had for NOT being at Mr. Monk's house this Monday morning.

I walked into the already spotless house with a handful of the daily mail that I had retrieved from the mail holder near his front door. It didn't take me long to find out where he was, the smell of bleach and other cleaning supplies was so strong that it could have easily made Mr. Clean jealous. The smell led me into the kitchen where I found him as busy and a bee.

"Morning, Mr. Monk." I said with a smile, but my greeting was in vain. He merely lifted his head up and gave me a quick nod before returning to his work.

This man pursued cleanliness as if it were a religion. It didn't take too long for me to understand this…maybe I should rephrase that…it didn't take me too long for me to notice it, I don't think I will ever understand it. I knew there was something…interesting…about Mr. Monk the very first time I met him. The man had open flames in his trashcan and he was COUNTING the number of feet before he would even put it out!

He looks upon the process of cleaning as if it were the most serious thing he had ever encountered. This daily chore to the rest of us is his exciting pastime. You know, I actually found him cleaning his cleaning supplies once. Its true! He was using his duster on the Windex bottle!

I've decided that Mr. Monk cleans for the sake of cleaning, where as the rest of the world cleans for the sake of calling it clean.

I've wondered and wondered what in the world might provoke him to clean so much. I remember having a conversation with his Doctor, Dr. Kroger, once. Dr. Kroger said that in his opinion, Monk cleans so much because he is trying to regain a sense of normalcy. He said that Monk cleans in order to keep his memories of his late wife alive and vivid. I suppose that would make sense. Captain Stottlemeyer once said that ever since his wife passed, Adrian Monk had never really been the same. I think that he is just trying to keep everything the same as she left it.

For instance, Mr. Monk never lets me into his personal bathroom (at least he hasn't yet), but one time he left the door open so I got to take a look inside. Everything was in twos. And something told me that it wasn't strictly because of his always having things in pairs. No, these were personal things. I saw things like two toothbrushes and some makeup on the edge of the sink. Something tells me that Mr. Monk's hair is naturally curly so he probably had no need for the curling iron I saw plugged into the socket.

Obviously, these were all Trudy's things, things that he hadn't the heart to throw away. It was obvious that he loved his wife very much, and his love for her was demonstrated all throughout his house by all of the pictures of her (and him) that decorated the walls, shelves, and desks.

It's clear that Mr. Monk and I have completely different ways of dealing with remorse; otherwise my house would look a lot like his. After loosing Mitch, for the first few months I was a total wreck. The only time I showed even the slightest bit of strength was when ever my daughter was in the room. Even through she was VERY young at the time, she still seemed to know when I was upset and it made her upset.

I didn't know what to do, reliability was the foundation for Mitch and mine's marriage, and now that he was gone…I had no one to rely on. It was indeed a scary time. But I eventually pulled through it. Every now and then when I get depressed thinking about it, I can usually rely on my daughter to cheer me up. She never fails to put a smile on my face. Man, I love that girl!

This thought helped me to understand Mr. Monk a bit more. When Trudy died…he had no one to put a smile on his face. He didn't have a daughter to cheer him up. From what I hear…he didn't even have many friends to share the burden with. He had to come through it entirely on his own. For three years he barely left his home, I suspect that he was in here cleaning to pass the time. Cleaning was his lifeline for three years.

And now he cleans still. I don't think it is a sign of mourning anymore. But he still goes at it as diligent as ever. Maybe in some way he feels that it brings him closer to his wife, I don't know.

I don't think I will ever know. I think that Mr. Monk is the one code that even the smartest of scientists could never crack no matter how hard they tried. There's just something about him that I don't think any of us will ever understand. All I know is this, Adrian Monk is one of the most incredible people I have ever met…and I wouldn't trade our friendship for anything.

Not a thing.

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The End


End file.
